Through Darkness and Light

Chapter 7

Shadows We Carry

The Shrieking Shack swayed from a gust and the floorboards above Sirius creaked. His dark hair framed his thin face and several strands stuck to his prominent cheek bones.

"What have I done?"

Sirius wiped a hand down his face in an attempt to cover the shame he felt. He had attacked the one place he had called 'home.' How had he sunk so low? Somehow over the years he had become exactly what he hated, his family.

The great and most noble house of Blacks; it really was a fitting name. Their hearts were nothing more than black organs, incapable of feeling love or compassion. And now there was no more divider separating him from them.

Today was just the beginning and he would never stop, continuing to fall further down that path. He chuckled at the irony. Killing Peter would save Harry, but at the same time it would condemn him forever.

"What does it matter anyway?"

He sank down to the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Now the security of Hogwart's would be on high alert, an impregnable fortress of patrolling dementors and teachers.

"James, why in the world did you listen to me? Why hadn't we seen the truth?"

Ever since he stepped out from the dark walls of Azkaban, the memories had just disappeared, no longer haunting his every moment. Yet, now they fought to be free.

"No, no I don't want to remember."

There was a light pressure on his mind, a fleeting touch that maneuvered those doors back open.

"The past cannot be forgotten; it is who you are."

"No," Sirius moaned and clutched his head. "I can't remember." He couldn't tell if the voice was conjured by his own twisted mind, driving him further to insanity or something else entirely.

"How can you run when what you fear is a part of you?"

The scent of magic drifted in the air. Sirius froze and his eyes widened. No, he hadn't imagined it. The trace was light, so small that he normally wouldn't have sensed it.

This was not one of the voices he heard in Azkaban. Someone knew where he was and knew who he was. But how was that possible? No one knew he was here.

Wait, she had seen him in the hallway earlier today. He had been sure that Elessar did. Was the voice an a accomplice of hers, working against him?

"Who the hell are you? Did the elf send you? Did she?"

"Why would the mirror show you?" The voice said instead. "What part will you have to play?"

The pressure on Sirius's mind increased and he screamed. There was only pain, more terrible than any Cruciatus Curse.

"Why are you so important?"

He instinctively clasped the glass phial. He was not about to let some pompous ass mess around in his head. Warmth seeped through his hand and the foreign magic faltered.

"You fool," the voice sneered. "The light of Eärendil cannot harm my kind." The presence shoved aside the last of Sirius's resistance, piercing through his mental barriers as if they were made of glass.

His hand tightened around the phial. Pain meant he was still alive. And that meant he could fight back. He would not die here.

"Get out!"

The phial burned his head and he almost dropped it. White light burst out from between his fingers, engulfing the room. The voice screamed; its frustration shook Sirius to the core as it was ripped from his mind.

Colors swam around him, blues and yellow mixing with every shade imaginable. He fell downwards, a spiral that took him further from life. Then there was nothing, only darkness.

The cold from the wooden floor seeped through Sirius's thin robes and his head throbbed. "Ugh," he moaned. His throat protested even with such a simple sound, raw as if he had been screaming.

Wait a minute, what happened? And why as he on the floor? With careful movements, Sirius managed to lift himself and held his head as the dizziness passed. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

James Potter paced back and forth. Lily sat in a chair not far away with a baby cradled to her chest.

No, this wasn't possible. Not this, anything but this. And yet no matter how much Sirius prayed that the memory would fade it did not.

Lily's eyes were dark, showing that she hadn't slept in weeks. Even James showed signs of weariness, his cheek bones becoming more pronounced. James ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. He didn't realize what he was doing, so preoccupied with his thoughts.

"Sirius, there isn't any time. We need to decide now."

"James?"

This was only a memory, it wasn't real. He wasn't really hearing James's voice. Even with all the logic at his disposal, Sirius couldn't stop yearning.

"James," Lily spoke quietly, "Dumbledore offered."

"I will not change my mind. I trust Sirius with my life."

"I have an even better idea," a third voice stated.

Standing a few feet away was himself twelve years younger. Even the eyes were different, not nearly as worn but held an inner fire.

The young Sirius walked towards the couple and placed his hand on James's shoulder. "We can do this. You will get through this."

James smiled, the kind only shared among brothers.

This man in front of him was not James. He was not real. This memory could not forgive him.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Peter."

"No! He'll betray you!" Sirius reached for James, but his hands passed through the shadowy figure. He stumbled and his elbows smacked against the wooden floor. Underneath his tattered robes, blood trailed down his knees. "Stop it," he pleaded. "I don't want to see this."

"Why Peter?"

"It's the perfect bluff. Voldemort would never dream of you choosing Peter. James, we can pull this off."

Lily had been sitting with an apprehensive expression on her face. "What about Remus?"

Sirius shook his head. "We can't trust him. He's been disappearing and not saying where he was going."

James knelt and lifted her hand, placing a gentle kiss on her fingers. "We need to make a decision, Lil'. Remus lied about traveling to Ireland."

"He could have been working for the Order," she protested.

"Or Voldemort. We can't trust anyone."

"Then how you can trust Peter?" Lily knocked over her chair as she stood up. "What if you're wrong Sirius? Why not just use Dumbledore?"

James touched her face.

Sirius covered his ears. "No, don't say it."

"Sirius is right, it's the perfect plan."

"Nothing is perfect," answered Lily.

Harry cried, his shrill voice causing all three to stare at him.

"Harry," Sirius croaked.

Harry and Lily had known, their hearts telling them Peter wasn't the right choice. Sirius and James had blind-sided themselves with their cleverness, but if they had taken a moment perhaps to listen would the outcome remain the same?

"Lily, please let me hold him," the young Sirius said. "Please, this may be one of the last times I get too."

"Sirius," James said with confidence, "don't ever say that."

He watched with longing as Lily handed Harry over. Even now he felt Harry's weight in his arms.

"I'll miss you," Sirius said quietly to Harry, "but even if you don't see me, know that your godfather is always watching."

Harry reached up and his hand touched the phial around Sirius's neck. Rays of light shot out from it, shooting upwards and piercing through the ceiling as if it weren't there. Lily screamed. James yanked the phial from Harry and the light snuffed out. No one said anything.

After a few minutes James asked, "What is that thing? What the hell does she want with you?"

"I don't know. But this is powerful magic," Sirius said. "Not even Dumbledore's knows its origin."

"You need to get that thing off of you. It's too dangerous. It could have harmed you or Harry!" James roared, the stress and sleepless finally having taken their toll on his control. " Sirius, I refuse to let you brush this off any longer."

Lily wiped her tears. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. Whoever she is, she wants to protect you."

"That woman had a knife to my throat! Hell, she couldn't even tell me if she was my enemy or not," Sirius snapped.

"I know, but something's telling me she's not evil."

The memory faded leaving Sirius sitting on the floor alone with the crystal phial resting in his palm. Through the howling wind and creaking of wooden beams, he could still hear Harry's laughter.

"James, I'm so sorry. I was wrong."

The liquid swayed in the glass and engraved along the surface was writing, a language he had never seen. Such a simple thing and yet within held a sleeping power with an unknown purpose. However, she knew its purpose. He really had been such a fool; how did he not see it sooner?

Calrheane Elessar had given it to him all those years ago. The way the phial reacted in her presence - as if her magic called to it. She played him from the very beginning. This phial was meant to 'guide him through the darkness.' It was meant to protect him from Azkaban.

His hand tightened around the phial.

She knew. If she knew about him and Azkaban then she knew about Lily and James. She had the ability to stop that night, prevent them from dying. Instead she had done nothing. He pictured the phial cracking, breaking into hundreds of small pieces.

Sirius laughed his voice hollow. He let the phial slide from his hand, dangling from the silver chain around his neck.

Everyone was so trusting, never questioning her presence. She maneuvered them all, like pieces in a game of Wizard's Chess. Except this time he could see the board. Certain players were still shroud in illusion, but they would come out, just as the voice had. Sirius Black would be a pawn no longer.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hundreds of stars littered the ceiling of the Great Hall. There was normalcy in such a sight and Calrheane hoped that this calm would sooth her. The meeting with the dementors had left her shaken. Apparently even elves weren't immune to their powers.

Snape hovered in a corner, his dark cloak an extension of the shadows. His eyes followed her every movement; an action she was growing accustomed to from him.

Dumbledore walked among the students, his eyes scanning all the faces. The way his hand stroked his beard, running his fingers through the thick whiskers, showed that he was deep in thought. He straightened and motioned her forward.

"Did you have any luck?"

"No. The dementors were enraged, but they are scouring the grounds."

"As I told Severus, I had hardly expected Black to linger. Have you learned anything new about the power we felt?"

"I only have questions. The spell was meant for another, but I do not know who."

"Ah, I thought as much myself. There was no focus, just blind magic," Dumbledore said.

"Whoever thwarted the spell didn't have the power to destroy it completely, which is why it sought another."

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and continued his walk around the hall, Calrheane at his side. "There is something more that you're not telling me."

"Yes," she replied after a moment. "I felt Zirak as well."

Dumbledore's step faltered and his eyes narrowed. "You're sure?"

"I am." There was a hard edge to her voice. Zirak knew what would happen this night, had planned on this other power to make a move. What other consequences resulted that they were not aware of?

"I see. And you have no theories?"

How could she tell Dumbledore what she felt? That the magic used to attack was so familiar, the core of it nearly identical to hers. But no, she must be mistaken. It wasn't possible.

"I wish to speak with Shra first and I would not speak of such here."

"Yes, you are quite right. Who can tell which of these children were unable to find comfort in dreams?"

Several wavered between the waking world and the sleeping one. She should not have said so much. Seeing them all here, so innocent and carefree, she pondered over her decision. They were in danger. She should leave, explaining to Dumbledore that there was too much at stake. Yet still, she said nothing.

Dumbledore placed his hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I am weary."

"This is understandable, you should rest. Tomorrow we will speak more on these matters."

She nodded and headed to the entrance. There was much to be done, many questions to ponder over. Where was Shra? Surely she should be back by now unless something happened? Calrheane shook her head. No, Shra was safe. She would know otherwise.

Snape waited for her at the large doors, his dark eyebrows drawn together.

"Professor Snape," she greeted as she approached.

"I would have you call me Severus if I believed you desired to become so familiar."

"Is there something I can do for you?"

He frowned at her words and his attention shifted. She followed his line of sight to see Dumbledore staring at them. She could understand his curiosity; it was a rare sight for her and Snape to converse. However, tonight she did not have the legendary elven patience to deal with him.

"If there is nothing, then I bid you goodnight."

Snape followed closely, the taping of his shoes echoing across the deserted hallway. She pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to dispel the coming headache.

"Why do you follow?"

"Among humans it is customary for a gentleman to walk a lady home. I wish to ensure you reach your rooms safely, there's no telling who you may run into."

"I see."

A portrait of a grizzled man grumbled hollered, "So did ya youngster's catch'em yet?"

Snape snorted, but Calrheane stopped at the painting. "We did not," she answered.

"Eh? Is that so? Not much of an elf or wizard are the two of you? If I were still around my crew and me would've turned the castle upside down. Not a one person had ever been able to withstand the might of the Late Nut Gang," the man straightened his night shawl.

"I'm sure," Snape replied and pulled her past the portrait.

"No respect for your elders!" he yelled after them. "And when are ya going to put these torches out? Black or no, we need sleep!"

The volume in the man's voice lessened as the distance grew and most of her focus was on the hand dragging her. "I assure you, Professor that I am capable of walking on my own."

Snape let go and stepped back as if to reestablish the personal space between them. "I do not have the time or patience to dawdle this night as you feel inclined to do."

"I did not insist on you accompanying me."

"They will learn of the situation soon enough. And as I stated earlier, I would prefer to know that you reached your rooms safely."

"Your concern is not directed towards my wellbeing." It was obvious that he wanted something, most likely information. She found it surprising he would risk his discomfort.

He motioned her forward with his hand, the gentleman gesture a complete contrast to the cold tone in his voice. "The power tonight left me drained even though it had no interest in me. Then you remained in the company of dementors for several hours, I doubt even an elf is unfazed. Of course, my analysis doesn't include any other dealings that we may not be aware of."

She sighed and ascended the nearby stairs. "Why not ask what you wish to know?"

"Very well." Snape brushed past her and blocked her path. It appeared now he desired her full attention since they weren't skirting around the issue.

"During the War several associates and I came into contact with strange beings," he explained. "They were shades, able to get past mental barriers, including mine, which I can assure you were quite strong."

Her face easily fell into the mask the students knew her for, the cold indifferent elf. "And what does this have to do with me?"

"You were one of Dumbledore's spies during the War and so would also have felt these wraiths."

"How did you..."

"Dumbledore did an excellent job keeping you a secret, though I'm curious how he managed to convince you in the first place."

"I wonder the same of you."

"Indeed. The point is that you know what, or whom, I'm speaking of."

"What connection have you made?"

Unlike any other, he saw through her carefully laid plans and even now showed his intellectual prowess. However, this was not the cause for her discomfort or her desire to leave his presence.

While in Middle-Earth there was no gray area, just good versus evil. She was raised believing that a man like Severus Snape wasn't possible, one who lived with darkness and yet wasn't consumed by it.

"These wraiths," he continued, "had a very distinct magic and would leave behind a unique signature. The power we felt tonight reminded me of them. The signatures were different, but the magic was old; the kind not of this time. Is it not curious?"

"Is that so?"

"It's interesting really. I wondered why it was so familiar and then I realized something. I felt this magic everyday. Your magic to be precise, or should I say elvish magic."

"Professor Snape, I ask again that you be direct."

"I am concerned about the danger you have put this school in by being here. Why now, twelve years after the War has ended do you come into the open? Then there's this unknown attacker whose magic is similar to your own."

"I can assure you that I am no more a danger to this school than Harry Potter, Dumbledore, or even yourself are." She sidestepped around him. "It may be difficult to believe, but even I don't have all the answers."

"But you have some?"

"Perhaps, but do you not as well?"

"What I do not know, I will find out soon enough."

"I see. Then that is true for us both. Namárië, Severus."